Mister Morgan and Missus Adler
by Bentobox98
Summary: Arthur Morgan is many things. A thief. A killer. An outlaw. But most important of all, a forward thinker. What is the innermost feelings of a man who showed no prejudice against man or woman? And what of his newest and perhaps closest ally?


-He sat by the fire as the rest of the camp slumbered.

Javier was set up on the perimeter, close enough to shout, though out of eyesight. The O'Driscoll boy was… resting was too good a word for what he was doing. Though, he supposed having your arms tied behind you to the trunk of a tree wasn't conducive to a restful environment.

The firelight wasn't much, but it was enough for his chronicling of the day's events. Contrary to the image his silent, strong, stoic persona presented - that of the brutish gunman without an education - Arthur Morgan was a rather intelligent man. He could read faster than Dutch could speak, which was saying something. Draw too. He also wasn't bad at basic arithmetic.

He supposed that's to be expected from a man who'd lived longer as a outlaw than not.

But despite his lack of formal education, he was still far more intelligent than people, even those he counted among his friends, gave him credit. Except for a few. Hosea, for all his needling and ribbing, always had a… feeling around him. Like the man just knew. To be expected from an experienced conman. Charles… Charles always had an understanding of how people were. Lenny, though he himself was quite a smart young man, a testament to how far a man can go, no matter the tone of his skin, when treated as an equal. John Marston. Only a few years younger than Arthur himself, John was probably the closest thing he could call a brother. A brother with a strained relationship, but a brother nonetheless.

But the most surprising was their newest addition to their misfit family. Missus Sadie Adler. She'd barely been with them a couple weeks after the O'Driscolls…

And yet she had an air about her. A drive. She was grieving still, that much he could tell, but she still was determined to work and contribute. He had to chuckle a bit, thinking back on her argument with Mister Pearson. Hell truly hath no fury…

Missus Adler was most certainly not the kind of woman who'd stay home and make cherry pies… unless of course she had taken inspiration from Andronicus and invited Colm O'Driscoll to dinner.

He had no qualms with her taking on the role of gunslinger more than homemaker. He'd always welcome an extra gun, and she was certainly good company on the trail. But there was something else that grasped his mind, and held his attention tighter than a noose.

It was how she chose to fashion herself. She abandoned the dress and skirts in town, in favor of clothes befitting a ranch hand or… well, an outlaw. It was a far cry from the presentation of Miss Grimshaw, Miss O'Shea, Miss Roberts, Miss Jackson, Miss Jones, or Miss Gaskill. And Arthur would be a liar if he said it was not captivating. Though he wisely kept these thoughts to himself, in his journal. Along with a small portrait of Missus Adler in her new attire.

No use thinking of such things when the poor woman is still mourning her lost husband. Nor when he himself was still uncertain about his own emotional well-being.

In such a brief amount of time, she had somehow gotten a read on his character, and figured out that out of everyone, he'd be the one who would not coddle her or treat her as some fragile babe.

She had no idea of his past, and yet, kindred spirits connected.

In many ways he both pitied and envied her. To know the names and faces of the ones who stole your chance at peace and happiness… it filled her with drive and an unquenchable rage. A desire for justice. For vengeance.

He didn't even know the bastard who killed Eliza and Isaac. He didn't even know how they died. All he knew were two wooden crosses outside a homestead far from here. And ten dollars was the value of their lives, apparently.

But that ignorance… it caused him to understand the value of this found family. Something he doubted Missus Adler would understand until sometime after the last O'Driscoll lay dead… if she ever came to understand it at all.

And it'd leave her hollow.

Revenge was a forbidden fruit… a tantalizing goal that lead to the downfall of every man and woman involved.

Arthur Morgan was by no means a religious man, but if there was indeed a God out there listening, he prayed for justice, not vengeance.


End file.
